The Lost and Found World
by vickitata14
Summary: Rose Tyler loves the Doctor. But loving the Doctor is a complicated thing, especially when there's two of him. Rated T for implied adult themes.


The Doctor had called it Pete's World. To the billions of other people on the planet it was simply The World. But Rose Tyler always thought of it as the Lost and Found World.

Peter Tyler lost his wife. Jackie Tyler was dead and all that remained was-perhaps-a battered steel shell lying among thousands of other dead cybermen; she had not even given him a child with her face to remember her by. And yet Jackie Tyler was alive. She slept by his side every night, and together they had a newborn son named Tony.

Jackie Tyler: she lost her husband. Peter Tyler had been hit by a car and died when their daughter Rose was still a baby. He left her, poor and bitter, to raise the girl, the only thing she had left of him. And yet Peter Tyler was alive, alive and rich, to shower her with affection and give her everything her heart desired (which was quite a lot).

And Rose Tyler: she lost so much. She lost her world. Her world lost her; history there will tell you she died at Canary Wharf. And for her, to lose the world meant losing so much more than a planet. She lost stars and galaxies and far distant lands. She lost countless adventures yet to be taken. She lost a little blue box. She lost all of space and time, and she lost the man who was going to take her there. Rose Tyler lost the Doctor.

And yet the Doctor stood here, where she could see him. His usual blue tight suit he had exchanged for a tuxedo, but his hair was as messy as ever, and faded hightop trainers peeped out from under his trousers. She was wearing white-all white-and holding onto the arm of the father she had found. She lost her father when Peter Tyler died, but Peter Tyler was alive and she had found him. So too she lost the Doctor, so too she found him. And today was their wedding day.

He turned to look at her, and with grin and roll of her eyes she waved at him to turn back around. He rolled his eyes right back, then winked and flashed her that smile. Rose caught her breath, grateful that he obliged her by turning back before she had to look away. After all this time she should be able to look at him without it hurting, but she couldn't. And he could never know that.

Music played. She tightened her grip on her father's arm. He looked down at her with pride and wonder, the daughter he had found-had never dreamed he could have-and squeezed her hand. Rose often thought that nobody could possibly understand what it was like for her, but maybe her family understood more than she knew. They all had something, something that was lost and would always be lost, and yet was right there with them at the same time. And none of them ever spoke of it, but maybe, Rose thought, the pain was the same for all of them. So she looked up at her dad and smiled, because even if he didn't understand, it was good to have him with her. He smiled back, and they began the walk down the aisle.

It's amazing, the things that can go through one's head in a thirty second walk. It seemed as though her entire life flashed before her eyes, from the moment she felt a hand in hers and heard a whisper: "Run!" to that fateful day when she stood upon the beach and watched the Doctor fade away for the second time. Only he'd left himself behind with her that time. He was at once both there and gone forever, and that was the source of the pain. Today of all days, she shouldn't have been thinking of pain, but for her it was tied inextricably to the joy.

The Doctor was with her. One heart beat in his chest, and it beat for her. She had felt it, that day on the beach: one heart that she could've sworn beat faster with her hand resting over it. The rhythm flowed from him to her and they were two hearts beating in unison. The words the Doctor would never say, he spoke, and the things the Doctor would never do, he did. He was everything Rose had wanted when she loved the Doctor. He _was_ the Doctor, and she loved him.

But to love the Doctor...To love the Doctor was to love all of space and time, to love an impossible blue box that's bigger on the inside, to love a man who walks alone because nobody can stay with him forever. Rose loved all those things when she loved the Doctor, but the Doctor she loved was no longer those things. In loving-in having-she lost. And it hurt that she had lost those things, but what hurt more was the pain in itself. It hurt her to know that every time she looked at the man she loved, she would think of things he could not give her; she would think of the lonely man with two hearts who travelled all of space and time in an impossible blue box. She would think of the Doctor she lost, not the Doctor she had, and that wasn't fair to him. How much would it hurt, she often wondered, to know that it hurt your wife to look at you because when she did she thought of another man? No, the Doctor could never know her pain.

So she gave him her most radiant smile as he turned to face her before the altar. It wasn't that hard, after all, when his face lit up as soon as he saw her. His was a smile that literally stretched from ear to ear, like his whole face couldn't possibly contain all the joy he had to express, and his eyes danced with a childish glee, as if to say, "Look, we're getting married! Isn't that brilliant?!"

Rose took his hand in hers. Their fingers laced together perfectly, like they had from the beginning, and everything flowed between them. Rose and her Doctor stood together at the altar, and they spoke their vows, but everything that mattered passed between them through their entwined hands. They had been running together, hand in hand, passing through time and space for so long. Now, after all this time, they were going to stop. They were going to stay together, hand in hand, and let time and space pass around them. It was strange and wonderful and absolutely terrifying, and she asked herself every day if she really wanted this. Yet today she found herself saying "I do," and in that moment she had no doubts.

It was like a dream, and perhaps he felt it too, because he turned to her and cupped her face in his hands, stroking her cheek as though he was afraid she might melt away at his touch. He looked deep into her eyes, then he bent and kissed her with bittersweet urgency. Rose heard the applause of their appreciative wedding guests, but she herself felt very near tears. He had explained to her once why it was that, every time, his kiss was like the very last they would share, and it was then she feared that the Doctor too understood the pain of this lost and found world. In one sense, he had suggested, it was simply eagerness to make up for lost time. All those days spent traveling with her, loving her-the girl who had saved him from the darkness in his soul-but holding back because he knew that he must continue even after she was gone, and to lose her forever after a few golden moments would destroy him. Now there would be no forever without her; he could love her without that fear, and so he must love her doubly for every day he had held back.

After that satisfactorily romantic proclamation, however, he had looked away from her shining gaze and released her hands, letting his own fall limp at his sides. He had turned his eyes up to the stars, seemed to grow distant, as though he were suddenly wandering up there in the sky; his voice drifted to her as though it came from very far away.

"I'm mortal, Rose," he had said softly. "I can see it: the end of my life. Not the precise moment; it's not like that. But it's like when you're walking somewhere and as you begin to climb the hill, suddenly your destination peeks over the top at you. You can't tell how far it is, or how many bends there will be in the road before you get there, but you can see your journey's end, and just the sight of it makes it seem so much closer.

"I could never see it before. It was hidden somewhere in the depths of time and space, so far away I had almost forgotten it. But now I can see it, over the hills, and maybe when I get to the top it'll be straight in front of me; maybe there is no tomorrow. Or maybe there's a long and winding path still before me, but in either case I don't have forever anymore. All I have is from here to the place beyond the hill, and nothing has ever frightened me quite so much as knowing that.

"I need you, Rose Tyler. Especially if there's no tomorrow."

Remembering that, Rose swallowed a sob and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. A sentimental coo rose up from the women in attendance as he returned the embrace. To the audience it was simply a sweet moment, but the Doctor knew something was wrong. Rather than say anything, however, he simply hugged her tightly, lifted her off her feet and spun her around. Taken by surprise she squealed, and, quite suddenly, began to laugh. He looked down at her with that same exuberant grin, but such tenderness shone in his eyes.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." And this time, she didn't have to make herself smile.

The small gathering resumed their applause as the Doctor and his bride made their way back down the aisle. Jackie Tyler leaned against her husband and wiped her eyes with the corner of little Tony's blanket. Peter Tyler beamed with pride even as he blinked back the tingling moisture in his own eyes. It was a day neither of them had ever thought they would see, for there had been a time when Jackie thought she had lost even her daughter to a mad man in a blue box. But now she had everything she could wish for, and that was why, just this once, she didn't worry that her makeup would be spoiled by the tears. Some occasions, as the Doctor would later note, were momentous enough that even Jackie Tyler could get her priorities straight.

After the ceremony they held a reception at the Tylers' house. It was mostly Jackie's affair; she couldn't see the point of a wedding without a party, especially when one's wealth and societal standing provided for a sizable guest list composed of people who could afford fancy wedding gifts. Rose didn't mind. She had a few of her mates from Torchwood and one other girl she had met in town. And she had the Doctor; anything else was just a bonus, really. She was happy, and this way her mum was happy too. A loud, lavish party was a small price to pay, all in all, especially when she remembered the quiet little flat that waited for just her and her Doctor to come home that night. So she smiled and said her thank-yous and cut the cake, laughing as she watched her husband interacting with the guests. He said "thank you" in a hundred different voices to the hundred congratulations he received, just to keep it from getting monotonous. Dozens of times he awkwardly extricated himself from conversations that bored him or made him uncomfortable, but occasionally he would find someone he really liked; Rose could tell because his face would light up and he would start talking excitedly, gesticulating and exclaiming at random intervals. He teased Jackie and discussed Torchwood with Pete. With a pang, Rose realized that he seemed at home, like he belonged here. The Doctor was settling in.

Dancing with him was her favorite part of the night. The band played swing music and slow music, and while the newlyweds did sit out some songs, the Doctor wouldn't dance with anybody else. He graciously gave her hand to her father for a dance, and he bowed out a couple times when the guys from her Torchwood team gave her a wink and pulled her off, laughing. But on those occasions he simply sat at the edge of the dance floor and watched her, several times brushing away Jackie, who kept offering him hor d'oeuvres. When that dance was over, though, Rose would always go straight back to him for the next one, rescuing him from the persistent mother of the bride. They would laugh at the huffy expression on Jackie's face, then dance away. The Doctor enjoyed spinning Rose about as many times as he could before she gasped that she was getting dizzy. If it was a slow song, though, he would hold her very close and she would lean her head against his chest and let their breathing and their heartbeats synchronize. He would kiss the top of her head and smile into her hair, and she would feel it and smile too.

So Rose felt both content and slightly sleepy when they finally left her parents house and got into her car. Thankfully it wasn't too far to their flat, and the night was late enough that traffic presented no problems. They were both silent; Rose kept her eyes on the road and the Doctor gazed out the window at the stars. They had been together so long that to be silent together was just as natural as to talk, and Rose had learned long ago that silence was often necessary to appreciate whatever you found around you. Nevertheless, she was glad to be driving, because it kept her from thinking too hard. She was simply aware that the Doctor was beside her, and that was enough for the moment.

They pulled up in front of the flat some minutes later. Rose shut off the engine and reached for the door handle, but the Doctor stopped her.

"Wait," he said, and winked at her.

He swung out of the passenger side in one fluid motion, shutting his door but reappearing moments later outside of hers. With a little bow he offered her his hand, which she accepted with a smile, and helped her out of the car. Her feet had barely touched the ground, however, before he scooped her up in his arms. She laughed with delight and put her arms about his neck, drawing him down to kiss her. He responded so readily that he almost dropped her, and she drew back immediately, raising her eyebrows.

"Doctor, it wouldn't do to drop your wife before you crossed the threshold!"

"Well, it wouldn't do to drop you at all."

"Except on the bed," she said cheekily.

He only laughed mildly in reply, and it was too dark for her to see his face, but Rose was fairly certain she had made the Doctor blush, and she smiled a bit smugly at the thought. She continued to toy idly with his hair as he bore her up the front steps to the door, and with her other hand resting on his chest she felt his heartbeat quicken. Her own heart pounded in time; her whole body was shot through with a warm, tingling sensation, and she nestled further into his arms, trying to bring herself even closer to him. They were married, and nothing could ever tear them apart, ever again-

"Rose, can you reach my sonic screwdriver?"

"What?" Jerked from her reverie, Rose gawked up at him. "Doctor," she said slowly, "you don't have a sonic screwdriver anymore."

"Oh, don't I? Go on, check my jacket." His eyes danced in the light of the street lamps.

"Doctor, if this is a joke it isn't funny..." She reached hesitantly for his inside pocket, and gasped when her fingers grasped a familiar metal cylinder. She looked up to find the Doctor's face split wide open with a grin. "How?"

"I built it!"

"How?" she could only repeat stupidly.

"Well, I'm brilliant! It wasn't that hard with the proper equipment."

"When?"

"Last night."

"Why?"

He exhaled loudly and knit his eyebrows together, squinting at the sky. "Dunno. I was bored. Had some stuff Pete gave me to tinker with. No real reason, I suppose."

"You had the jitters, didn't you? You were nervous, you needed something to do!" She poked playfully at his chest.

"No," he scoffed, "Me? Never!" She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Rose, just hand me the screwdriver."

"Ask nicely..."

"Rose Tyler, you give me that screwdriver or I _will_ drop you!"

"You'll drop me if you try to use it," she pouted, "You've only got two hands."

"Oh, but you're forgetting something!" He snatched the screwdriver from her hands with his teeth and readjusted his hold on Rose, allowing his right hand a moment to dart up to his mouth and grab the gadget. She barely had time to compensate for the loss of support, though, before his arm was back beneath her, holding her next to him, and the screwdriver next to the keyhole. He grinned broadly once more. "I am amazing!" The lock clicked and the door creaked open.

"You're full of it, you are!"

"And don't you love it?"

"Stop it!" Rose smacked him lightly on the arm.

He only grinned the wider and stepped grandly over the threshold. "Rose Tyler, welcome home."

She said nothing, only pulled his lips to hers and kissed him fiercely.

It didn't take much longer for them to find themselves together in their bed. Rose had single-mindedly directed them there, several times urging the Doctor on when he had gotten too involved in the snogging to keep moving. Now they lay facing each other, foreheads touching, every so often leaning in to brush lips once more. Her arms were draped over his shoulders. One of his encircled her waist, while the other traced up and down every curve of her body, making her shudder with pleasure. Being with the Doctor like this could never possibly get old. She could lie here forever, loving and making love, hearing those words she never got tired of hearing and he never got tired of saying.

"Rose Tyler-I'm so glad you didn't have to change your name. That's a rubbish tradition anyway, who thought of it? You'd never be anything but Rose Tyler to me-Rose Tyler, I love you."

She only smiled at his rambling, and kept smiling as she kissed him, and kissed him again.

"I love you too," she murmured between kisses, gasping as his tongue took advantage of her parted lips. She submitted gladly to his leadership, letting herself be swept away. They were both quite out of breath when they parted, and they just lay for a while, gazing into each other's eyes as though trying to draw closer together on every level. Riding such a high of emotions, Rose couldn't help it; she laughed.

"What?" asked the Doctor, too lazily to sound truly worried, "Have I done something wrong?"

"Of course not, silly" Rose replied teasingly. "It's just...I never imagined this could happen. Not even in my wildest dreams. That's how I know it's real. It's too crazy-too wonderful to be a dream."

A shadow passed over the Doctor's face at that moment. He sighed and rolled onto his back. Rose leaned up against him, trying to comfort him, but he had grown stiff. He didn't put his arm around her to draw her nearer and reassure her. He just lay there, apparently lost in thought. At a loss for what to do, Rose propped herself up on her elbow and studied him. His eyes had a faraway look in them, and Rose suddenly felt very small, and a little bit frightened. Her hand found his, and she lay back down very close to him, silently pleading with him to relent and return her affections. He did nothing for what felt like ages, and when he finally spoke, his words seemed as distant as his thoughts.

"Sometimes I dream, Rose, that I'm back in the Tardis. Alone. Without you. Without anybody at all."

Despite being so near to him, Rose grew cold. "Well," she managed to say, "you're not alone. I'm with you, and I'm never leaving."

"But I can feel myself hurtling through space and time," he continued as though she hadn't spoken, "and I can feel it all rushing through me. It's like nothing I've felt in so, so long."

"Please, Doctor," Rose said in a low voice, "can we not do this? Not tonight."

"It's like I'm forgetting something. Like something's slipping away. The dreams bring it back."

"Doctor," Rose pleaded, "it's our wedding night!"

"Well what does that have to do with it?" He sounded almost impatient.

Rose flung back the covers and sprang up from the bed, angry tears welling up in her eyes. She grabbed her dressing gown from off the nightstand and wrapped it around herself.

"If you're worrying you're forgetting what it's like to be the Doctor," she spat, not even looking back at him, "don't. You sound just like him. Rude, thick, and definitely not human." She stood at the window, chest heaving, glaring out at the darkness.

"Steady on!" He followed her immediately, bolting from the bed and pulling on his pants. "What was that for?" he demanded, coming to stand behind her, trying to read her face in the reflection in the window.

"You think I don't miss it too?" Rose whirled around, shouting at the Doctor like never before. "Because I do! Every day. Every day," she choked on the tears that were beginning to fall, "I look at you, and I miss it."

The Doctor stood with his mouth slightly open, his face pale in the dim bedroom light. Rose took a shuddering breath and continued her tirade. There was no stopping it now.

"And it's wrong. It's so _wrong_. We walk through our front door into a room that's just normal sized. And there are days and weeks and months and we have to live them all, and it drives me mad just as much as you. And you! You're just useless as a human! That's why you built that new screwdriver, because you felt so useless! And I don't blame you, because what kind of life is this, after the old one, with the old Doctor?"

"The old Doctor," he repeated slowly. "The old Doctor, or the real Doctor?"

"That's not-I didn't-" Rose was stricken. All the things she had never meant to say, and she had said them all. On their wedding night, no less. A huge sob erupted from her chest, and she collapsed. Strong arms caught her, however, before she could hit the ground. She tried to push him away, but he pressed her to himself, and finally she gave in. "I'm sorry," she gasped, and began to cry in earnest. "I'm _sorry_!"

She felt his lips in her hair, and then his chin simply resting against her head as he held her. A drop of warmth on her scalp told her that he was crying too, but the loud sniff and clearing of the throat that followed also told her that he wasn't going to continue.  
"Now listen to me, Rose Tyler." He took her by both her shoulders."Look at me. No-shh, it's okay-look at me. Rose-" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat several more times before he spoke again. "Rose, I want you to listen to me very carefully.

"You might miss the Tardis, and the Doctor, and everything they have out there. But I have never missed, nor will I _ever_ miss anything as much as I missed you. When we stood there, that day on the beach, and he said that I needed you, he was right."

"Like always." Rose choked out a laugh through her tears.

"Yes," the Doctor emitted a short laugh of his own, "Yes, he does always seem to be right, doesn't he?"

"It's not fair," she mumbled half-heartedly, not even sure what she was protesting anymore.

"No...No it isn't," he agreed. And he wasn't even sure what he was agreeing to.

"Doctor, why does it hurt?" Her voice was small and soft, and her eyes were like a sleepy child's.

"Because we're alive." He smiled down at her: his sad, knowing smile. "And as long as we're alive, we can feel. And as long as we can feel, we can hurt."

"It's not fair," she repeated after a brief pause.

"But Rose," he whispered urgently, "Rose, there's so much more than pain to be felt. Rose, the most wonderful thing is that I can feel you here beside me now, and that's emmore /emthan worth all the pain in the world. Because nothing could ever hurt as much as missing you, and I don't ever have to miss you again. I can spend my life with you, and oh, that's such a joy to be felt!"

Suddenly, Rose saw herself again on the beach, standing between two Doctors. One was offering to spend his life with her, and the other was urging her to accept. She had always supposed it was only her choice to make. Typical human-the Doctor would say-making it all about herself. But now she saw. She lost many things, it was true. But the Doctor who left lost her, gave her up to a man who could love her like he never could. And the Doctor who stayed lost the same things she did, in a way she could only just begin to understand, to stay with her and be her Doctor. She looked up at him again now with new eyes.

"My Doctor," she murmured, reaching up to touch his face.

"Rose Tyler."

"Say it, just one more time."

As though he had read her mind, he bent down and whispered in her ear. "I love you."

And just like she had done before, with that she pulled him to her and kissed him. And the Doctor and the Tardis began to fade away, leaving them: to grieve, perhaps, but to live and laugh and love together on the Lost and Found World.


End file.
